


The Poison you call Love

by iezzern



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Double Penetration, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FYI some small Nesta hate if you squint, Friendship, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut in Ch. 2, Tamlin is mean but what is new, This is not a Nesta positive space, Threesome - M/M/M, bc i couldn't help myself, mild dirty talk, or lack of really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 16:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16140791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iezzern/pseuds/iezzern
Summary: Lucien knows that he'll never get peace if he doesn't clear things up with Tamlin.So he tries, for both of them





	1. The Final Talk

The Spring Court is falling apart.

Lucien sees it the moment he arrives. The numerous roses and violets are slowly withering away; the previously green plains are a sick shade of yellow. The bark on the tall, rich trees is crumbling to dust. The stench of the dying nature is sickening; choking. Lucien almost gags from it. It’s unnaturally silent—not even a gust of wind. No laughing; no talking; no sign of people _anywhere_.

The Illyrian that winnowed him in notices it, too, his eyebrows raising. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks, laying a protective hand on Lucien’s lower back. “I’ll be fine, Cass,” the male answers, “I _need_ to do this”

“For yourself or for him?”

“For both of us”

Cassian snorts but doesn’t push it further. He steps closer to Lucien, pressing his front to Lucien’s back, his hand moving from his back to his hip. His hot breath tickles the back of Lucien’s neck, as his hair is up in a braided crown. The movement speaks of intimacy and affection. Cassian closes his eyes and inhales Lucien’s subtle scent. “You don’t have to go alone,” he mutters, his lips ghosting on Lucien’s skin.

“Yes, I do”

“Az would never forgive me if I let you get hurt”

“Good thing I can take care of myself, then”

Cassian huffs a laugh, placing a light kiss on his collarbone before drawing back. “No more than twenty minutes,” he drawls. Lucien nods in answer and starts walking. Cassian’s eyes never leave him, his body forever tense. Lucien tries to ignore it but can’t help the unsure smile he throws over his shoulder. The hot air is burning against the Illyrian leathers, places sweat upon his brow. At least, that’s the excuse he makes for himself. _He needs to do this_ , he reminds himself, _he needs to bring closure to this whole affair._ The mansion comes into view faster than he wants it to.

That is falling apart, as well—overgrown by ivy and roses and trees, the smooth walls almost gone. There is no beauty left in those roses; just cruelty. His steps falter slightly as he passes through the gates. All he can remember is the disappointment and disgust upon Tamlin’s face when he’d seen the Illyrian leathers the last time. What would he think now?

Lucien has told himself over and over again that he doesn’t care about what Tamlin thinks of him. It doesn’t matter. It isn’t worth it. He’s his own person and Tamlin won’t get to say what’s wrong with him and not. He won’t be ruled by misplaced loyalty and guilt. And still, he can’t get that face out of his mind. Can’t stop wondering how Tamlin will react. _How disappointed he’ll be._ How hurt he’ll be. Lucien’s mind keeps fighting itself.

Why should you care about Tamlin’s feelings? _Because he was your only friend._

Why should Tamlin’s opinion matter to you? _Because you used to care so much._

Why do you crave Tamlin’s approval after all this time? _Because you ~~used to~~ love him_.

The doors to the mansion are gaping wide. There’s a darkness within so strong that Lucien can’t see much. Lucien starts on the stairs, his hands shaking now. He can’t calm his nerves; nor his breath. He’s in panic. He’s about to turn. About to run back into Cassian’s arms and beg him to take him back to the Night Court—back to Azriel. He takes one, small step back before his resolve turns to stone again.

He won’t let himself run away now. If he doesn’t do it now, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to. So he slows his breath, clenches his hands into fists, and starts walking again. He walks through the doors and into the dark abyss. Lucien never really noticed before, but the constant scent of roses and green; the constant _green_ and _red_ and _pink_ , is choking and it washes over him in waves. He speeds up his walk, wants to find Tamlin before it _drowns him_.

Lucien reaches the throne room far too early for his liking. He pushes the door open and steps inside. The throne room is overgrown, much more than the rest of the court. He swallows and forces his eyes to go to the other male in the room. Tamlin is lounging on his throne, his eyes lazily moving from whatever he was looking at, to Lucien. He looks broken. His eyes are rimmed red; his clothes are ruffled; his posture is lazy and sloppy, so unlike the Tamlin Lucien is used to. Lucien’s throat dries up. A long silence stretches between them. “Tamlin,” he says, his voice raspy.

Tamlin doesn’t answer for a long time, his face in a mask of contempt. “Fox,” he finally drawls, and it makes Lucien’s breath catch. He doesn’t know how to continue the conversation, so he just stands there, holding Tamlin’s gaze. Tamlin is the one to break it, his eyes trailing Lucien’s body; his clothes. “Come here to show your new _allegiance_?” he spits, and it takes all of Lucien’s restrains to not sigh. “You know, it’s cruel of you, to come crawling back when you’re obviously _too good_ for the Spring Court now”

Lucien takes a deep, shaky breath. “Tamlin, I just want to talk. Clarify things,” he says, taking a few steps forward. “Of course, you do,” the other male answers, “There’s nothing to clarify, fox. You left me. You left me for _Rhysand_ and _his_ court. You _fled_ with _Feyre_ to…”

“Because Feyre offered me kindness, Tamlin,” Lucien interrupts in a growl, suddenly angry, “A kindness you hadn’t shown me in a very long time”

“Why _Rhysand_?” Tamlin raises from his throne, his voice laced with desperation. “Why did you choose him?”

“It wasn’t just him,” Lucien mutters, his eyes finding the floor. It takes Tamlin one beat of silence to understand. “The Illyrians?” he asks, quiet now. Lucien can only offer a small nod.

After the war with Hybern, he’d struggled to find his place in the Night Court. After some time, he’d given up trying to build a relationship with Elain. It just wouldn’t work out. He’d skirted around the outside of Rhysand’s Inner Circle, not trying to fit himself in but not trying to shove himself out, either. He’d accepted the position of emissary without thinking much about it, just going along with what everyone else wanted from him. Then Azriel had started paying attention to him. Small conversations and fleeting touches and long looks.

It had woken something in him. A need for being _appreciated_. A need for being _wanted_. In the short weeks that Azriel’s attention had been on him, he’d senselessly fallen in love with the Illyrian male. He’d become hyperaware of Azriel’s every action around him. Every touch; every glance; every goddamn time he licked his lips. And then, one night, Azriel had kissed him and his world had shifted. And then, after some time, Cassian had come tumbling into their arms—after he’d decided to stop wasting his time on someone who obviously didn’t deserve him.

Tamlin lets out a low laugh; vicious in its tone. “I never thought you would sink so low as to roll over and spread for low-born bastards.” Tamlin's sneer turns downright cruel. “Maybe you've been lower. Do they enjoy you on your knees?”

Hot, choking shame washes over Lucien's body before he can control it, his skin flushing red. He won’t let Tamlin win this; won’t let him see him stutter and blush. “If I remember correctly,” he says, keeping his voice cool, “You were the one who enjoyed that”

It was something he’d never admitted to anyone except Azriel and Cassian. Those years before Feyre; even before Amarantha. The times when Tamlin didn’t have anyone to take his sexual frustration out on except Lucien. And Lucien had let Tamlin have his way with him, like a fool in love. It had never been about feelings, as Lucien had tried to convince himself back in those days. Tamlin had beckoned him over for a quick fuck because that was the only thing Lucien had to offer him in terms of affection.

“How could I not?” Tamlin's expression hadn't faltered, not even for a second, “When you were so eager to please; like a bitch in heat”

If the scent hadn't given it away already, his words do. Tamlin is dead drunk. His words always turn hurtful when he drowns himself in liquor. Lucien can’t help the small flash of sympathy that rises in his chest. Tamlin’s in such a bad place, and he’d helped in bringing him to this place. But those words, _the implications of them_. “I was never your bitch,” he sneers. Tamlin just laughs in return. “Of course you were, fox. My personal little bitch”

“Tamlin.” Lucien feels like his voice is a weak whisper, not able to reach the other male completely. “You don't mean that”

Tamlin's eyes rake over his body, cold—but still hungry. Lucien stares back. A few years ago, that look would have made Lucien squirm in submission. Tamlin considers him for a moment before his eyes soften. Something in him _breaks_. “You're right,” he breathes, “I don't”

And there are tears sliding down his cheeks. “I gave you everything, Lucien—” the first time he’s used Lucien’s name “—I protected you and took care of you and I was your friend and you _still left me_. Why was I not good enough? Why did you and Feyre leave me? _Why does everyone leave me?_ ”

His voice raises at the end—angry; sad; heartbroken. “Tam.” Lucien tries to keep his tone soft, as he moves closer to him “Tam, it was never about you not being good enough. It was about you being _too much_ ”

Tamlin doesn’t react to his words, just stares him down with an ice-cold stare. So Lucien tries to continue. “You wanted to protect what you loved, I understand that, but…but you went too far. You can’t protect everyone on your own. You can’t try to control others in an attempt to keep them safe. I know you think you did the right thing, Tam, but to me and Feyre…it was like a prison. We needed _a choice_ ”

Tamlin startles, his eyes going unfocused. “I—I never meant to…”

“But you did.” Lucien can’t help his quick response. He so desperately wants Tamlin to _understand_ , but with the state he’s in…he doesn’t know if he’ll reach through. Tamlin’s face twists in anger before going unfocused again. He takes deep breaths and by the time he’s finished calming himself down, Lucien has come to a stop right in front of him. “Tam.” His voice breaks. The male in mention shifts his attention back to Lucien. He reaches out and brushes a few stray strands of hair from Lucien’s face, letting his fingers trail down to his cheek. “I hope they treat you right—those Illyrians,” he whispers, “You were always too good for me”

Now, Lucien’s cheeks are streamed with silver, as well.

“Leave,” Tamlin continues, “I need to be alone”

And so Lucien does.


	2. Aftermath

It feels like mountains have been lifted off his shoulders when he walks out those doors. The scents aren’t as choking as before; the lands not as blinding.

He smiles when he feels a small sliver of his shadow rise and wrap itself around his wrist. It caresses him, sliding along his skin and nipping at the small, sensitive patches. A shiver works itself up his spine and the shadows sing in amusement. A second later, Cassian’s booming laugh echoes over the fields.

“Perverts,” Lucien mutters before he rounds the path and the two males come into view. Cassian is wearing a shit-eating grin; Azriel a calm mask of indifference. The glint in his eyes gives him away, though. “I can’t believe you let him let you go alone,” Azriel says as he holds out his hand to Lucien.

Lucien rolls his eyes, while he fits his cheek into Azriel’s scarred palm. “I told you, Lucie can take care of himself,” Cassian growls and Lucien huffs a laugh. He closes his eyes and nuzzles into Azriel’s hand. “You didn’t think that when I left you here,” Lucien quips before diving into Azriel’s neck. The deep rumble of Azriel laughing vibrates under his skin; makes him flush. That laugh reminds him of this morning and makes his skin tingle.

And the shadows notice. Of course they do.

Azriel’s laugh grows louder and Lucien’s cheeks burn brighter.

“Pervert,” he says again, prompting Cassian to laugh as well. “Is our little darling flustered?” the Illyrian male taunts, sliding up behind Lucien and grabbing onto his hips. He ghosts his lips over Lucien’s neck; as he’s always been so fond of doing. Lucien shivers again, which prompts Cassian to crowd him against Azriel’s chest. And then they’re on him— pressing their lips to every single available sliver of skin, kissing and biting.

Lucien, against his belief that he could, flushes even more; craning his neck backward, letting it fall on Cassian’s shoulder. He’s breathless, pressed between the two Illyrians who, themselves, are having a hard time controlling themselves. Azriel’s hand tugs at his hair, drawing a winded gasp from his lips; Cassian’s hands roam his thighs and hips, before gripping tightly onto his legs and lifting him onto Azriel’s hips. Lucien is unsure of how long he’ll last.

“Take me home,” he gasps and before he’s even properly finished the sentence, Azriel is winnowing them to Night.

They appear in a hallway in the Townhouse, Lucien can’t be bothered to notice which one. All he cares about is that Cassian is up against the wall behind him, and Azriel is pressing him tighter to Cassian’s chest and they won’t let him breathe and Azriel is slowly undoing his braid and yanking his hair and Cassian is undressing him with nimble fingers and there’s a hardness grinding against him on either side and he wants _moremoremore._

He whines against Azriel’s ear and lets his hands travel up and down his muscled back, feeling through the fabric. He’s careful to avoid the wings; Azriel has always been particularly protective of those. “Bedroom,” he breathes, “Now”

The Illyrians obey.

Lucien is dragged into the room between them, their hands untying his clothes and discarding them on the floor. Azriel just about rips his shirt off and Cassian hooks his fingertips through the belt loops of his pants and tugs them down over his hips. Lucien, himself, is working hard on Azriel’s sheer, thin shirt—a futile attempt, as his movements have become sloppy and unfocused.

Azriel chuckles against his skin before drawing back and ripping off his own shirt. “Wings would’ve made it bothersome,” he breathes and dives in for Lucien’s lips. He can hear the rustling of Cassian’s clothes falling to the floor behind him and then Cassian’s uncovered, hot length is pressing against the small of his back and Lucien’s breathing turn heavy. As Cassian kisses his way down Lucien’s back and up again, Azriel strips of his pants and Lucien wonders what the hell is wrong with these Illyrians and the size of their cocks.

He readies himself to go down on his knees, wants Azriel to feel good…but Tamlin’s hurtful words suddenly flash through his mind and he freezes. Does he seem too eager? Is he being a little bitch for them? He feels like he can’t move, but Azriel immediately pulls him out of it. “Let me,” he whispers as he smoothly goes to the ground.

Cassian’s warm hands grab onto his hips, massages them, as his lips run down Lucien’s cheek. It’s like he could sense the thoughts in Lucien’s head. “You’re so, _so_ lovely, Lucie,” he growls, makes Lucien’s knees weak, “I love how eager you are for us, how quick you are to respond to us, turns me on so much”

Lucien collapses against Cassian’s smooth chest, just as Azriel wraps his lips around his cock. He’s a master at it, his tongue sweeping in just the right places; his teeth scraping with just the right pressure. Lucien turns pliant between them, his body fitting itself along Cassian’s fine form. “Good boy,” Cassian mutters and his fingers are travelling down his back, fleeting over his behind, teasing between his cheeks.

Lucien is near begging. He tries to thrust his hips forward and at the same time press them against Cassian’s fingers, and with the way they’re moving, he can’t have both. He sobs, writhing. His eyes are clouded by tears, his mind reeling and unfocused. Dammit, he can’t hold himself. So with Azriel giving him small kitten licks and with Cassian’s fingers and hardness against his supple ass, he moans “Cass, please, please, I need you to… _Cass_ ”

Cassian chuckles before he withdraws, presumably to find the lubrication. Which leaves Lucien to crumble in Azriel’s hands. The Illyrian male grabs onto his thighs, and _lifts him_ onto his shoulders, effectively taking him deeper into his mouth. Lucien just can’t help himself and grabs onto Azriel’s hair, tugging at it. Azriel’s scarred hands explore the lower parts of his body, his fingers sometimes teasing his hole.

“Get him over here, Az,” Cassian says from the bed and Azriel complies. He stands up, walks over and throws Lucien on the bed. Even though he knows it’s a little shameful, Lucien is undoubtedly turned on by the manhandling. Before Lucien’s had time to collect himself, Cassian’s strong hands wrap around his biceps and tug him up. He’s immediately crowded between them again, this time with Cassian’s rough fingers teasing at his entrance. “Cassian, stop teasing,” he groans, earning chuckles from both of them.

He lazily obliges, easing one finger inside, going slow, _so_ slow. Cassian starts to thrust, slowly adding more and more fingers, teasing and exploring him, making Lucien pant and flush, until four of them are spreading him wide open. It’s quite easy for Cassian to slip in another one, as he’s still loose from their activities this morning.

Meanwhile, Lucien’s mouth is assaulted by Azriel—first Azriel’s own mouth; then his fingers; then his cock. Azriel has Lucien’s hair twisted around his hand, yanking it back and forth—Lucien has lost count over how many times he’s deepthroated him now.

“Feel ready, yet, Lucie?” Cassian asks, his voice even and firm. The one question he always repeats. Azriel pulls Lucien off his cock, so he at least can answer. “Yes,” he groans, and before he knows it, he’s tugged up to their level again and turned around, so now he’s facing Cassian. The look in Cassian’s eyes, that intense and sultry gaze, is enough to make him moan one more time. Cassian smirks and tips his chin up, licking at his lips. Azriel’s arms come around his sides and his hardness presses between Lucien’s cheeks. “Fuck me,” he says, demanding, before Cassian’s lips meet his. Azriel’s cock teases at his entrance, smugness rolling off his shadows. Lucien lets a growl slip through his lips, which prompts Azriel to finally enter him.

Lucien separates from Cassian to give a loud, drawn-out moan, pure bliss running through his veins. Cassian starts mouthing at his neck, leaving dark bruises behind. Azriel is gripping Lucien’s hips hard, as if they’re the only thing anchoring him to his self-control. He moves in, going so slow that Lucien barely notices. Lucien tries to breathe through his mouth, barely managing to keep himself from coming. He’s not going to last long. When Azriel _finally_ is in to the hilt, he drapes his entire front along Lucien, breathing hotly in his ear. It’s so subtle that anyone not used to it wouldn’t notice, but his breathing is uneven. Hitching and far too fast. Azriel’s unravelling.

His fingers are digging into Lucien’s hips, leaving dark bruises. Lucien doesn’t mind them. He never does. Cassian is still mouthing at him, having moved onto his chest. He sucks on one perked up nipple while massaging the other with warm fingers. “Can you take us both, or are you too winded up?”

Again, his voice isn’t accusing, mean or teasing. He’s soft and caring, as usual. “I can take both, I _want_ you both,” Lucien answers, and he _does_. It wasn’t enough with just Azriel this morning. He wants to feel the two of them finish inside him _together_. He wants to feel how much they want him. Cassian kisses him softly before grabbing the backsides of his thighs and lifting him. Lucien goes off-balance for a few moments, but Azriel keeps him steady. He nibbles at Lucien’s ear and whispers, voice shaking, “You feel so good, my love, I can’t…”

He’s cut off by Cassian leaning over and kissing him sloppily. “Hold on for me,” he mutters and both Azriel and Lucien moan. Both of them love it— this dominating and commanding side of Cassian. He quickly wraps Lucien’s legs around his waist and lines himself up with the other male’s entrance. “Moan for me, Lucie,” he growls and so Lucien does. Just as Cassian enters him. And, oh, what a sensation it is. His cock slides in beside Azriel’s, agonizingly slow. Lucien’s body sings with pleasure. They stretch him impossibly wide, feeling up every single part inside him. Lucien lets his head fall back on Azriel’s shoulder, gasping out praises and strings of filthy words.

Cassian gives the usual cocky chuckle, but Azriel is quiet; controlled breathing against his collarbone. Lucien lets them guide his body—position him the way they want him. It feels liberating, to let them take control in such a little way. Cassian’s hands find his waist and then he’s thrusting in and out, leaning as close to Lucien as he can get with curses spilling from his lips. Azriel is no better, with whispered praises and subtle gasps. The shadowsinger removes his hands from Lucien’s hips and reaches out to clutch at Cassian’s biceps, a low groan working itself out of his lips. “Feeling good, Az?” Lucien chokes out. Azriel answers by moving his hips in time with Cassian’s, punching the breath out of Lucien’s lungs.

The Illyrians lock eyes, smirk at each other, and Lucien knows he’s about to be wrecked. They take their sweet time on him—changing rhythms, nipping at his sensitive skin, tugging at his hair, slipping out and re-entering, whispering lewd phrases in his ear, their hands around his throat.

They’re going so slow, and Lucien knows they do it to tease and exhaust him. They know he likes it hard and fast—for them to push him past his limits and fuck him senseless. They want him to beg, and Lucien knows he’s so very close to doing it. He’s spread in such an obscene position, that he knows he won’t lose any pride by opening his mouth and crying out for them, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

Instead, he reaches behind him and tugs hard at Azriel’s hair. The male’s hips stutter. “My thighs are on the brink of collapsing,” he breathes, and his voice is low and throaty, “Let’s lie down, yeah?”

Cassian nods and lets himself fall back on the pillows, drawing Lucien down into his lap. Azriel follows, fitting himself to Lucien’s back. Lucien immediately starts rolling his hips, desperate to have them deeper inside. The two of them are still, their chests heaving. Lucien relishes in that fact. “Move,” he groans at them, “Damnit, _fuck me, you two_ ”

They obey him instantly; Cassian slowly swirls his hips, a stark difference to Azriel, who is thrusting roughly and quickly. Together, they create a rhythm that unravels Lucien, makes bliss run through his body. And then Azriel’s cock is hitting that one spot, and Lucien is seeing stars, his voice coming in small hiccups and gasps. “You look so good, Lucie,” Cassian drawls, laying his hands on Lucien’s hips, “By the mother, I love the face you make when we fuck you, so lovely, Lucie, so beautiful”

He tightens his hold and lifts Lucien up, before dropping him hard down on their cocks again. Both the Illyrians choke on their air, but none of them are as affected as Lucien is. “ _Yes,_ just like that,” he cries out, tears forming in his eyes. He lets Cassian do it again and again, Azriel eventually joining in, until silver is streaming down his face, and his lips are slick with sweat and spit, his hair is a complete mess and his hips are aching.

He’s gone too quickly, pressure and warmth building up in his stomach, drawing him to the edge. The Illyrians are, too, judging by the noises they’re making and the stuttering of their hips. Azriel speeds up, his hips losing all rhythm in the chase for release.

 “I—I’m…” Lucien can’t even start the sentence. Cassian still gets the message, though. He reaches a hand up to circle Lucien’s cock, and Lucien throws his head back his breath stops in a drawn-out gasp. Azriel’s hips still with a gasp and Lucien can feel him slicking up his insides. Cassian follows closely behind, his loud groan echoing through the room. It takes only a few seconds for Lucien to spill, as well.

He collapses forward on Cassian’s chest, breathing heavily. Both Azriel and Cassian draw themselves out of him, leaving Lucien to groan at the feeling of their cum seeping out after them. They move simultaneously, almost a habit by now. Lucien shifts on top of Cassian, laying between the male’s spread thighs, and Azriel lays himself down by their side, halfway on top of Cassian, throwing one hand over Lucien’s slim shoulder. Cassian sneaks a hand under Azriel and starts threading his fingers through Lucien’s hair.

“I love you,” he sighs, exhausted. Lucien smiles fondly into his chest. “Which one?” he asks while reaching out to caress Azriel’s collarbone. Cassian laughs breathlessly, his chest rumbling under Lucien. “Both,” he answers, “It has always been both”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you for reading this fic. I would love if you left kudos or even a comment, really about anything; don't be shy. The second part of this work took so much time to finish (mostly because of school), but with a little determination and a strong will, it was finished at 23:36 last night, bless.  
> Honestly, I wrote this because I was a tad bit unsatisfied with how it never was resolved in the books (Not that I claim I can do the work better than Sarah, she wants to focus on other parts of the story, and that's completely fine, no hard feelings)


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